


Sensless Story About How the Master Learned to Dance

by Taifics



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Gen, M/M, Missy annoys the Master, The Master Has Issues, The Master is embarassed, Timey-Wimey, joking, learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taifics/pseuds/Taifics
Summary: Missy asks the Master to dance... which is embarassing as the Master realises he can't dance!





	Sensless Story About How the Master Learned to Dance

The Master had tried to recall any emmbarassing event, any awkward situation and faintly surprised he found out that he cannot quite remember of any. Probably the reason was the obvious fact that he was much to proud to keep such memories and so he just tended to delete them instantly afterwards. That would explain all of those mysterious black holes and forbidden areas spreading across his brilliant mind. It was not like he truly cared about rules or screaming red signs of no allowence, yet something there was whispering to him not to take a pick, when he was strolling via paths of his vast brain. Why yet would he be so afraid to check? Oh, of course! Maybe because THAT would be under that self-deceptive mask!

He was feeling rather foolishly frozen in the prison of mare seconds. The Master was up to dance with him... erhm... herself. And out of sudden he found out that bacisally he... lost the ability to dance with another sentient life form. He could still catch a dim picture of himself dancing with his human wife ages ago in the front of those funny little apes and the Doctor himself, just a day after taking control. That was yet some kind of showing off, of dancing on their graves, besides... it was a bloody joke and centuries ago, but now... Well...

Missy and the Master had the Doctor tightly tied up, sitting unconscious in the weelchair on the rooftop and... they were simply bored. He woke up for a few minutes just to hear them planning his death and then... Again. Dead. Bye-bye. No sign of life.

Thus they were pacing around, joking meaningly, laughing, insulting each other, but that hardly counted as entertainment.

The Master turned the music on to make it even more riddiculous when the Doctor would finally open his eyes. He believed that soundtrack was something the world lacks and so he always loved to add some properly stupid tunes to the ordinary surrounding. But the Master could not predict Missy making an absurdly elegant bow, asking him to dance almost immediately when the subtle notes of the melody started to float in the air.

“You gotta be kidding,” he nearly coughed in response, judgeing her pose.

“Quite the opposite, dear” she said dead serious, piercing her icy eyes right through him.

That was a challenge and a challenge was something the Master was never capable of resisting.

He stood up.

“Shouldn't it be me, by the way, who's asking?” he demanded, straightening up to cover his uncertainty.

“Don't be so old-fashioned,” she sighed with reprovement and reached for the palm he was offering.

Then the Master identified the bothering, overwhelming feeling he was experiencing as a fear. He was scared. It was the first time since the last days of the Time War, since the time he escaped and turned himself into a human. Fear. For a brief moment he was even stupidly considering its taste on his tongue and wondering if he could become a human being again just out of pure embarassement if he failed. The Time Lord growled inerly at that thought and decided he was the bloody Master and he was not going to act like some scared little boy weeping for his mummy. He. Could. Dance... A Bit.... Long... Time... Ago... WHATEVER!

“Mhm, my dear, I am not, otherwise, how could I grasp the idea of such unusual change?” he purred, playing along and pulling her gently closer, not starting to dance yet though.

“Unusual? Are you sure about you not being old-fashioned?” Missy gave him a pityful look.

He dragged her closer again, causing her to gasp with surprise.

“I have never actually changed that much so for me myself I find it quite uncommon, don't you agree?”

Now she pulled him to the center of the roof where there was enough space to move at ease.

“Oh, and I was so afraid that you became slightly earthly because of all of this Prime Ministering around Britain,” she giggled playfully, placing one of her palms on his shoulder.

His eyes narrowed – partly because of her words, partly because of her palm.

“You mean, me forgetting about the fact that Time Lords have no habit of caring about one's gender since like... more or less... millennia?”

He smiled absent-mindedly and traced his fingers across Missy's cheek, looking firmly in her eyes to claim his superiority. She did not twitch even tiny bit knowing that to dance in their case means to fight. That was proper entertainment!

She smirked, catching his palm occupied with caressing her cheek and put it on her waist.

He lifted his chin exposing his nicely-shaped neck.

The Mistress studied it visibly intrigued.

“Such a nice parody of human being you made! You are, in fact, my precious after-human regeneration, still smelling with a faint trace of YANA and having some of humanish leftovers and I know precisely every echo of insect-like mind resonating in yours,” she spoke, grabbing his other palm, never stop smiling.

The Master felt a bolt of anger splitting his mind and causing his pulse to race maddly.

“Don't you play with me so roughly, lady-me, I can bite. Tell me, wouldn't it be such pity to leave red marks on that pretty flesh you happen to possess nowadays?”

“Treats are like compliments... mostly false and yet horribly tempting,” replied Missy, observing his short, but firm fingers tangled with her own.

“Accurate words, dear,” he acknowledged, nodding and studying her smooth long palm, oval-shaped nails, delicate knuckles...

“Just like your dancing skills,” she said out of sudden, looking at him and catching his look.

“What?” he asked, trying not to sound perplexed.

“False and tempting... to uncloak,” she stated calmly.

He pursued his usually pouty lips.

“So rough, oh, so rough...” he muttered making an effort to remain cool. “Can't you just shut up and dance?”

“You should watch your manners, young man!” gasped Missy offended and then pulled the Master even closer. “Maybe shall I teach you some?”

The Master pulled her closer so that their faces were only inches apart. He could smell her or bite her easly. He smiled at that thought, staring shamelessly at her lips and finding that her bottom lip is twitching slightly. That made his satisfied smirk wider.

“And maybe...” he purred, “...you should reveal where and when did you learn to dance, hm?”

Missy could not help, but laugh quietly.

“I had a Cyberman once, my own Cyberman,” she spoke amused, “and I was disgustedly bored...”

The Master raised his left brow with a suspicion.

“So I did shoot him dead...”

The Master nodded as his suspicion was confirmed to be right. He moved closer and brushed her cheek with his.

“And?” he asked, whispering the question right to her ear.

Missy embraced him tigher and whispered back:

“Nothing. I simply learned how to dance.”

The Master rolled his eyes, backing off to see her face and her vicious smile, spreading across it.

“Pretty...” he said helplessly.

“Wasn't it?”

“I meant, pretty sensless,” he added with a husky laugh.

Missy moved closer and pressed her forehead against his to Master's utter surprise.

“Manners, manners, dear,” she muttered.

“Bravo, then, Lady-me,” replied the Master politely, “for telling me a pretty sensless story. Well done.”

Missy made a short sarcastic noise.

“Better now? Or should I kiss you to say sorry?” asked the Master snidely.

Missy moved back. The Master nearly made a sound of disappointment as that brief physical contact he had found oddly pleasant. He could catch a glimpse of a memory... A man with sticky-uppy hair and a long, brown coat... Just a memory out of its place. The Master blinked confused.

_Sensless._

“You are hopeless,” informed Missy shortly.

“Am I suffering from low self-esteem nowadays?” said the Master, pretending to be worried.

“I meant, hopeless dancer,” she said impatiently.

“Manners, manners, dear,” he echoed her previous words, smirking.

“Bravo, then, Junior, for your hopeless dancing skills,” said Missy, imitating the Master's way of speaking. “Enough now, koala-man. Pay attention, I'll teach you.”

Master's features brightened up instantly.

“Oh, so that's how you learned to dance,” he said, grinning maddly, “I did learn it from myself!”

Missy grinned back.

“So it seems,” she nodded. “But... Where's the beginning of the story then?”

“I suppose, there's no such thing as the beginning in this case,” spoke the Master thoughtfully.

“Timey-Wimey?” asked Missy.

“Timey-Wimey,” agreed Master and then suddenly he did burst out with a hoarse laugh.

“What?” asked Missy perplexed.

“See, I was right! This actually IS a sensless story!”

Missy shook her head, looking up the artificial sky, but smiling still.

“Let's just go back to dancing. We should give him a proper show when he'll wake up, shouldn't we?”

He agreed with a brief nod and let Missy lead him as a good old gramophone started to play as good and as old _Dream Away_ by Billy Munn. The Master hummed content, thinking that they would play it on a loop and embraced his future-self tightly to dance like that forever.

 


End file.
